The dawn filtered through the curtains, painting the floor with golden lines. The air was warm, heavy with that silence that only exists when everything seems at peace. Velka was the first to break it, stirring under the sheets with an exaggerated sigh.

  —Tell me there’s no rehearsal today —she mumbled, her voice thick with sleep.

  —In your dreams —Neyra replied from her bed with a lazy smile.

  Caelia, already sitting at the edge of hers, was scribbling something in a small notepad with absolute focus. I stayed under the covers for a moment, savoring the feeling that, for a few minutes more, the world demanded nothing from us.

  The moment shattered with a sharp sound: beep. Then another. A red light blinked on the wall terminal. Velka lifted her head, and even Caelia stopped writing.

  —That’s not good —Neyra said, sitting up.

  I stepped closer and pressed the panel. The synthetic voice of the internal network filled the room:

  “Squad assigned to Operation Aurora: deployment confirmed in seven hours. Report to the instruction hall at 09:00 for final preparation. There will be no further rehearsals. Everything practiced will be final.”

  A knot formed in my stomach. Velka let out a nervous chuckle.

  —Well… game’s over.

  Caelia stood, her posture rigid.

  —Prepare your gear. There’s no room for mistakes.

  Neyra nodded, but her fingers toyed with the blanket—a telltale tic of her tension.

  I swallowed hard. No matter how much you prepare, hearing the order is different. There was no more room for adjustments. In a matter of hours, we’d be leaving the safety of the academy… to step into Eiswacht.

  The sky, as seen through the tall windows, was soaked in a thick gray, as if the storm outside wanted to squeeze the world until it burst. The thunder, distant, rumbled at irregular intervals—far enough not to frighten us, yet near enough that we could never quite forget it. The air in the room felt heavy, thick with a tension none of us dared to break.

  Our mentor had just given us the notice, and though she’d spoken with a firm voice, there had been nothing calm about her words. We were only a few hours away from deployment to Eiswacht. We knew it… and the weight of those hours was settling on all our shoulders.

  Caelia sat upright, but the subtle movement of her fingers—closing and opening—betrayed her. Neyra kept her gaze fixed on a single spot on the floor, as if the answer to everything was hidden there. Velka smiled, but it was that half-curve of her lips I’d already learned to read as nervous. As for me… I didn’t know if I was anxious or simply holding my breath for far too long.

  That was when the door opened, and Reia walked in. No—she didn’t just walk. She entered as if she carried with her a stolen ray of summer sunlight. The whole room seemed to react: the gray felt less gray, the chill less biting.

  —What’s with those long faces? —she asked, smiling with such warmth it almost hurt to see in the middle of our storm.

  Neyra was the first to answer, sighing.

  —We’re about to be deployed… and, well… you know.

  Reia nodded slowly, without losing that smile. She walked to the center, looked at each of us, and—without warning—sat down cross-legged on the floor. She closed her eyes.

  At first, I thought she was praying or focusing on something, but within seconds I felt a strange warmth in my chest. It wasn’t suffocating—it was more like a gentle breeze pushing at my heart, reminding me it was still beating. The weight on my shoulders eased, and every breath came easier, as if an invisible knot in my throat had been untied.

  I watched Caelia unclench her jaw. Neyra blinked a couple of times, letting out a sigh that sounded almost relieved. Velka gave a small laugh, as if she’d just remembered something pleasant.

  And then… Reia began to cry.

  It happened so suddenly that I stood to go to her, but she raised a hand, softly shaking her head. The tears slid down her cheeks, yet there was no pain on her face—only a strange serenity.

  —I’m fine… —she said quietly—. This is what happens when I take in what you’re feeling, to give you hope.

  I said nothing. There was no way to get used to something like that.

  Within seconds, Reia had composed herself again. She rose with the same lightness she’d entered with, brushed her cheeks dry with the back of her hand, and gave us one last smile.

  —I hope that helped… —she murmured—. And I’m glad… glad I could help my sisters.

  She said nothing more. She turned and left, leaving behind a calm that, for the first time that day, I realized I desperately needed.

  The hours bled together, marked only by the quiet hum of the building and the occasional echo of footsteps in the corridors. None of us spoke much—there wasn’t really anything left to say.

  When the summons finally came, it wasn’t the kind of call you could mistake for anything else. Our mentor was already waiting, her presence like a wall against the storm outside.

  —Orders came earlier than expected —she said, her voice carrying a weight we all felt in our bones—. I won’t lie: I would have liked more time with you. But this isn’t up to me. From now on, there will be no “adjustments” or “corrections.” You have to carry your roles perfectly.

  Her eyes moved over each of us, slow and deliberate, as if trying to burn her words into our minds. No comfort, no warm send-off—just the raw truth of what awaited us.

  She didn’t linger. The rest of the briefing was handled by a man in a dark, weathered coat: the envoy of Ambassador Myra Haldenn. He placed a secure case on the table and opened it, revealing four identical metallic devices, each no larger than a coin.

  —These will remain with you from now until your return —he said, his tone almost clinical—. They will alter your faces and voices to match your counterparts as you know. As of a few hours ago… those women are no longer in the picture.

  The air shifted at those words. I didn’t ask what had happened to them. None of us did. But in my mind, the thought lingered—Seravenn didn’t leave loose ends.

  I picked mine up. The surface was cold, the weight barely there, but I could already feel the subtle hum beneath my fingertips. When it latched into place along my jawline, the change was instantaneous and my magic i felt it dissipate from my body—my reflection in the glass became someone else.

  Velka let out a low whistle.

  —Well, aren’t we glamorous now?

  —Focus —Caelia murmured, though the faintest curve at the corner of her mouth betrayed her.

  —Don’t worry, love —Velka shot back with that lazy grin of hers—. I’ll be the perfect wife you always dreamed of.

  A small ripple of laughter broke the tension, even if it didn’t last.

  The envoy continued, his voice a steady anchor in the room.

  —Your entry will be via a railway system that doesn’t exist on any official map. The Ghost Train runs through underground lines shielded with concealment magic and illusion arrays. Every sensor—technological or arcane—will register it as an empty cargo convoy.

  He let the words sink in before adding:

  —However, the illusion will only hold if no magic is used during transit. None. Not even a whisper of it.

  My stomach tightened at that.

  Velka leaned back in her chair, tilting her head toward me.

  —Sounds romantic, doesn’t it? A train ride together, no magic, just the two of us.

  —You wish —I muttered, but my voice lacked bite.

  When the meeting broke, the hours that followed blurred again. We were issued final checks, silent escorts, and then—without fanfare—moved into an armored transport. The drive was long enough for the night to deepen, the sky above us shifting into a rolling sheet of clouds split by flashes of distant lightning.

  By the time the vehicle stopped, the air outside was freezing and the ground was slick underfoot. Our contact waited in the dim light, wearing a railway worker’s coat that didn’t quite hide the soldier underneath.

  —Welcome —he said quietly—. The station is a short walk from here. Keep close, and don’t make a sound.

  We followed him across the snow, every crunch of our boots sounding too loud in the stillness. Ahead, the black mouth of a tunnel swallowed the light. From within came the faint rhythm of a train—steady, relentless, like a heartbeat.

  —This is it —our guide murmured—. Once you’re on board… there’s no turning back.

  Caelia looked at each of us in turn, her voice calm but unshakable.

  —We go in together. We come out together. That’s all that matters.

  I held onto those words as we stepped into the darkness. The cold hit harder inside, the air thick with the scent of oil and steel. Waiting in the shadows was the Ghost Train—a hulking shape breathing thin clouds of steam.

  The contact guided us to a windowless cargo car marked with faint runes that shimmered in the dark.

  —Inside —he said, lowering his voice even further—, the world will forget you’re here. But remember—no magic.

  We climbed aboard. The space inside was narrow, lined with metal and smelling faintly of coal dust. We settled close together, knees brushing, breaths visible in the frigid air.

  The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  Caelia gave one last look around before speaking in a tone just above a whisper.

  —Silence. Whatever happens, trust the plan.

  I shut my eyes, willing my pulse to slow, but it was useless. Every clatter of the wheels would soon be a drumbeat carrying us into Eiswacht—into someone else’s life.

  Aboard the train, near Eiswacht capital

  The train lurched forward with a heavy shudder, as if every gear had to be shaken awake. The illusion wrapped around us like a second skin—cold, stifling—so dense it almost tasted different in the air. The silence was absolute; my own heartbeat felt too loud, every breath a risk.

  I knew I couldn’t use my magic—not even a whisper of it—but the fear was impossible to smother.

  —Ye alright? —Velka whispered, her voice low and quick, her accent thicker than usual.

  —Yes… I just… I don’t like this —I murmured, barely moving my lips.

  —Nobody likes it, lass —Neyra muttered from her corner—. But there’s no turning back now.

  The carriage rattled through endless tunnels. Through a pinhole crack, faint red glimmers flickered like dying embers. We were crossing the border. Every second pushed us deeper into Eiswacht’s heart.

  A metallic screech ripped through the stillness. The train jolted to a stop, throwing us off balance.

  —What is it? —I asked, panic already clawing at my throat.

  Caelia shut her eyes, straining to listen.

  —I don’t know… but stay calm.

  Outside—footsteps. Boots striking stone with mechanical precision, like a clock counting down to something’s end. A harsh voice barked:

  —Routine inspection! Open the compartments!

  My heart froze. Velka’s hand clamped over mine, her dark eyes locked on me.

  —They’ll find us… —Neyra whispered.

  —No… not if we trust the illusion —Caelia said, her voice like steel—. Not a muscle. Not a breath.

  The sound drew nearer—doors sliding open, rifle butts banging against metal, low voices in a language I barely understood. A sharp knock rang against our carriage. I shut my eyes, as if that could erase me from existence.

  —Keep yer mouth shut an’ breathe, love —Velka whispered, her voice trembling just enough to betray her nerves.

  The footsteps stopped right in front of us. The door’s hinges squealed as it slid open. I could hear the soldier’s breathing—slow, heavy—and the faint grind of his armor. Cold sweat slid down my back.

  —Empty —he said at last, flat and impersonal.

  The door shut. The footsteps faded. The illusion had held.

  Caelia exhaled slowly, her hand still resting on the hidden knife she hadn’t drawn, but had been ready to.

  —We don’t move until the jump point.

  The train started again, faster this time, like it was running from the danger it had just escaped.

  Minutes passed like hours, until the rattling changed—faster, harder. Caelia glanced at her watch and gave a hand signal.

  —Get ready. We jump before the station.

  Velka gave me that mix of tenderness and madness in her smile.

  —Well, love, ready for our first romantic getaway?

  —This isn’t the time for jokes… —I muttered, though a nervous laugh slipped out.

  —It’s the only time for jokes —she winked.

  When Caelia nodded, we pushed the door open just enough. The night wind hit us full force—cutting, cruel. No magic. No safety net. Just us, and the void.

  One by one, we jumped. The fall was a whirl of snow and ice that knocked the air out of me. I rolled until I finally stopped. The cold bit into my skin like fire. I lifted my head and saw my teammates getting up. Velka gave me a thumbs-up, Neyra was breathing hard, and Caelia was already on her feet, scanning the dark.

  We were in Eiswacht. Shadows no one should see.

  We moved quickly, following the contact waiting for us. From the first step, I knew we weren’t in Seravenn anymore.

  The air was different—cold, dry, saturated with the scent of coal and machine oil. Frosted-glass streetlamps cast a pale glow over wide, orderly streets. Iron-and-glass towers loomed beside massive factories, forming a skyline that felt alien, unyielding.

  —So different… —I thought, unable to stop myself from comparing it to Seravenn’s warm, cluttered streets. Here, everything felt calculated: trams gliding alongside electric cars, chimneys exhaling steam like tired giants, columns etched with surgical precision.

  The people walked with a discipline that felt rehearsed—men in long coats and straight-brimmed hats; women in long skirts, tight waists, and black ties that gave them an almost martial presence. Even the echo of their footsteps seemed orderly, it was just as our mentor described.

  Our own clothes—dark, fitted, without ornament—let us blend into the steady flow. Still, every passing patrol—soldiers in black helmets and slung rifles—was a reminder that here, control wasn’t the exception. It was the law.

  Velka, always with that air of never taking anything too seriously, leaned toward me as we passed a group of soldiers marching in formation.

  —Notice anything? Even their weapons look like they’re marching —she murmured.

  —Yeah… —I whispered, trying not to let the tension show in my voice—. Everything here feels… perfect. Cold.

  —That’s Eiswacht —Caelia cut in, eyes fixed ahead—. Everything works like a well-oiled machine. Although… even the best machine rusts, given enough time.

  Her words lingered as we walked on. The main avenue opened before us like a wound of white light and steel: silver trams gliding along their rails, and above, surveillance balloons with rotating cameras, like mechanical eyes that never blinked. The sound of the people’s footsteps was so synchronized it felt like a single collective heartbeat. No one looked at anyone else, and that, more than calm, gave off an unsettling sense of indifference.

  Caelia stopped and turned to face us.

  —This is where we split up —she said with that steady calm of hers, the kind that could anchor even a trembling heart—. We’ll be picked up again in two days for our official introduction to Project Aurora. Until then, we adapt… learn to breathe like they do.

  I nodded, swallowing hard. Velka slid an arm around me as if that touch had always been there.

  —One day’s grace, darlin’ —she said with a sly smile—. Before the other kind o’ hell begins.

  Neyra’s eyes kept darting from side to side, like every corner could swallow her whole.

  —And if… if I feel out of place? —she asked softly, as though afraid to break the city’s spell.

  Caelia placed a hand on her shoulder—serious, but with a faint tenderness.

  —You can always call me. I won’t let you be alone… though for now, it’ll have to be just by call.

  —Thanks… Elsa —Neyra murmured, already using her cover name. I saw her relax just a fraction, as if the word were a rope she could cling to.

  We said our goodbyes with a small gesture and one last look: we were still a team… but from now on, each of us had to become someone else. Caelia and Neyra left first, vanishing into the perfectly ordered crowd. A sudden hollow feeling settled in my stomach, as though the street had become wider and more dangerous without them.

  Velka, sensing it, gave my arm a squeeze.

  —Well, my wife… —she said with that mischievous smile, the faintest trace of her accent slipping through—. Time to go home.

  I let her lead me by the arm, my heart beating hard. It wasn’t fear. It was the certainty that this—all of this—had already begun. Two more shadows in a city of steel and smoke, we started walking into the world of our new names.

  The neighborhood we arrived in looked like a postcard of wealth. Steel and glass coexisted with old-world elegance: white stone fa?ades, black wrought-iron gates so tall and polished they caught the glow of the streetlamps. The kind of place where misery was nothing more than a distant word. For a moment, I thought I saw a man following us… but he turned the corner without so much as a glance. The relief didn’t chase away the feeling of being watched.

  The house itself was impressive. A wrought-iron gate with geometric symbols welcomed us. Inside, the walls were painted in shades of cream and gray, with hand-carved moldings. The air smelled faintly of dried flowers and expensive perfume—soft, yet persistent. The scent of other lives… of the two women we now had to become, who probably no longer drew breath anywhere.

  Velka stepped into the foyer and stood for a moment, taking it in.

  —Well, love —she said, raising an eyebrow—. Fit for two graduates madly in love.

  We explored the house: a wide living room with dark leather sofas and an unlit fireplace, a study crammed with books on science, treatises on experimental magic, and Eiswacht literature. Framed photos of two women laughing at university, vacationing somewhere snowy, their hands intertwined over a café table. So intimate… and so foreign. Guilt pricked at me, like I was stealing something more than just a name.

  —We’ll have to learn to smell like them —I murmured, touching one of the perfume bottles on the table.

  —And walk like them, laugh like them… —Velka said almost poetically, before opening a cupboard—. But look at this, they’ve even got provisions! Big kitchen, fresh food. These people knew how to live.

  —Or how to fake it —I sighed.

  We climbed the stairs. The bedrooms were full of neatly arranged clothes: silk blouses, wool skirts, dresses with cuts as precise as Eiswacht’s streets. Velka stopped in front of a wardrobe and gave me a crooked smile.

  —Alright, love… try one of these. We need to make sure your… —she gave me an exaggerated once-over— assets… don’t give the doctor away.

  I blushed, taking a white blouse. As I buttoned it up, I felt it pull uncomfortably across my chest.

  —Not sure Dr. Caroline and I share exactly… the same proportions —I said, tugging at the fabric to loosen it.

  Velka chuckled.

  —Ah, your curves are fightin’ science itself —she said with mock solemnity—. But seriously… that could be a problem.

  —How do we fix it? —I asked, folding my arms.

  —We could bind you —she mused—, but that might look odd. Thank the goddess of modesty that Caroline’s not one for showin’ much. Still… we might need to let the clothes out a bit.

  I stayed silent for a few seconds, feeling the weight of the new identity. Outside, through the window, the city kept running like a flawless machine… while inside this house, the quiet was nothing more than the prelude to what was coming.

  Instead of magic, Velka went for something more practical… or at least, more entertaining for her.

  — No visible spells —she said, rummaging through a drawer—. We’re doing this like normal folk.

  She pulled out a small pair of scissors, sturdy thread, a needle, and a couple of pins. She told me to stand still and began taking measurements with her hands, feeling the fabric and, in the process, making me blush.

  — You don’t have to… measure that much — I muttered, avoiding her gaze.

  — Can’t have you popping a button in the middle of the mission, can we? —she replied with that crooked smile.

  She tried letting out the seams of the shirt, but with her first cut, she miscalculated and burst out laughing.

  — Well… no one said it would be perfect on the first try.

  It took longer than I expected. She sewed with patience, cracking jokes between each stitch, while I held the fabric as still as I could. In the end, the shirt was looser but still kept its shape.

  — There. Handmade adjustment. No arcane trace left behind, and you don’t look like a scientist stuffed into her uniform.

  — Thanks… I guess.

  Night fell quickly. While going through the closet, I found a drawer full of nightgowns and pajamas that looked like they belonged in a temptation catalog: soft fabrics, some far too short, others far too tight.

  — I’m not sleeping in this — I said, holding up a nightgown that barely covered my thighs.

  — Well, the other option is sleeping naked —Velka replied with a mischievous grin—. Honestly, it’s a pretty practical solution.

  — I’m not ready for… that much.

  In the end, I settled on one of the more modest sets: long satin pants and a thin-strapped blouse. Velka looked me over and nodded as if admiring a finished work of art.

  — At least that suits you. As for me… —she opened her own drawer and pulled out a dark nightgown that, once on, made her pale skin stand out and gave her a look both elegant… and dangerous.

  As we got comfortable in bed, Velka reminded me of what Caelia had insisted before we split up: that I should keep practicing Caroline’s voice tone.

  — Do you feel strange doing this? — I asked, lying beside her.

  She stayed silent for a moment, her expression more serious than usual.

  — Yes… At first, in this kind of operation, I didn’t know who I was. I’d lose myself in the role. Felt… remorse. But I do it because I know it protects our people.

  — Do you have family? — I asked cautiously.

  Velka sighed, staring at the ceiling.

  — Once… yes. Father, mother. A family like any other: problems, arguments, but also love. I left for a while, out of pride or fear… and when I came back, they were gone. Not long after, I joined Seravenn’s army. Thought serving would give me purpose… but it just reminded me I had nowhere to return to.

  I didn’t know what to say. I just looked into her eyes, hoping my silence wouldn’t make her feel even more alone.

  Velka lowered her gaze and, in a voice barely above a whisper, asked:

  — Could you… hold my hand while we sleep? Not because of what we’re pretending here — she gave a sad smile—. Just… after remembering all that, I fear the remorse might keep me awake.

  — Of course — I whispered.

  I took her hand gently, feeling her trembling pulse beneath my fingers.

  — Thank you for telling me. I don’t know if I can truly understand… but I want to. This family we’re building here… it’s not going anywhere.

  Velka blinked and gave me a faint smile, her eyes just starting to glisten.

  — You’re going to make me cry if you keep saying things like that — she murmured—. Thanks, Lyss.

  We stayed like that, our hands intertwined in the dim light. Outside, Eiswacht breathed with a different kind of silence: lamplight spilling pale over empty streets, the distant murmur of factories that never slept, and that persistent sense of being safe… yet watched.

  Outwardly, we were two strangers pretending to be wives. Inside, we were two magical girls… searching for a little humanity in a world of masks.